


We Can Reach There, Utopia

by youmakemedizzy



Category: ATEEZ (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Apocalypse, Angel!Jongho, Angel!Yeosang, Angel!Yunho, Angel/Demon Relationship, Demon!Mingi, Demon!Seonghwa, Domestic Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Good Omens AU kind of, M/M, Minor Violence, Romance, Yeosang and Seonghwa domestic fluff?, Yeosang and Seonghwa literally raise the Antichrist together idfk, angel!hongjoong, but not really it's gonna end up nothing like good omens, demon!San, demon!Wooyoung, the others help?
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-04
Updated: 2020-01-07
Packaged: 2021-01-22 19:35:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,238
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21307466
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/youmakemedizzy/pseuds/youmakemedizzy
Summary: It absolutely wasn’t because Yeosang had convinced himself (for around the one-hundred and twelfth time, but really, who was counting, because it certainly wasn’t Yeosang) that as an angel it was...improper to fraternize with a demon. It definitely wasn’t because he’d caught himself admiring Seonghwa’s smile one too many times, or that he’d found himself daydreaming about grooming Seonghwa’s wings. No, it was because Seonghwa was a demon. An icky, evil, absolutely awful entity who existed only to tempt humans into lives of sin.
Relationships: Choi Jongho & Kang Yeosang, Choi San & Park Seonghwa, Choi San/Kim Hongjoong, Jeong Yunho/Song Mingi, Jung Wooyoung & Kang Yeosang, Kang Yeosang/Park Seonghwa
Comments: 2
Kudos: 80





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This work is inspired by an idea for a demon Seonghwa/angel Yeosang au that I saw on twit (shoutout to whoever that was, if you ever end up reading this). I read it and immediately thought of Good Omens and domestic hwa/yeo parenting fluff and decided to shove the two together, so here we are. If you've read Good Omens or seen the show, this will be nothing like that, I just took the base idea and ran with it, so you don't need any kind of knowledge of Good Omens to read this. That being said, if anyone is confused about anything dont hesitate to ask! This is also my first ateez fic (and first fic in quite a while), so be gentle. I also have no beta, so I apologize for any errors.

Yeosang was lonely. 

He sighed, leaning his head on his hand as he stared out of the window of the coffee shop. Cars honked in the deadlocked traffic of the city street, a faint siren wailing in the distance. He reached out to pick up his latte, taking a sip. He savored the rich, smooth flavor of the coffee, watching as a woman with her dog walked past. The little black terrier trotted along, head held high as if it were leading the woman rather than the other way around. Patrons of the quaint shop murmured in quiet conversation behind him, some focused on laptops, others reading or on their phones. His phone buzzed where it lay on the counter. It was Jongho. 

_ You’re really not going to believe it. _

That was it, the entire message. Yeosang huffed, half in amusement and half in annoyance at the cryptics. He quickly dialled Jongho’s number, taking another sip of his latte as the phone rang. Jongho picked up on the second ring. 

“What?” Yeosang asked, and when Jongho didn’t immediately speak he wanted to reach through the phone and throttle him. A girl bumped into his stool, apologizing. He smiled and shook his head at her to show he didn’t mind. 

The silence stretched. Finally, Jongho spoke. “Well,” he said, “we all knew this was going to happen eventually, so it really isn’t that bad. Right? And on the bright side you get to see Seonghwa again. It really has been so long, hasn’t it?” 

“Jongho,” Yeosang said warningly, tone flat, ignoring the twinge he felt at the mention of Seonghwa’s name. It had been quite a long time, but perhaps not quite as long as Jongho thought. 

“Okay, okay, I’ll just say it, I really don’t know how to say this. The Antichrist is uh, being born. Right now.” He laughed awkwardly, and Yeosang could picture him shuffling his feet, a stupid smile on his face. 

He set his phone on the counter and put his head in his hands, breathing shakily. There was yet more silence on the other end of the line, before Jongho finally said, “Do you want us to fly down? We can, we can help. It might be kind of against the rules but-,” his voice was tinny and quiet, the speaker further away. 

“No,” Yeosang said, cutting him off, his voice a bit muffled through his hands. He picked back up the phone, realizing Jongho probably couldn’t hear him, “No, it’s against the rules.” 

“We technically never agreed to fight fair,” Jongho pointed out, and Yeosang shook his head. 

“You know that isn’t true. Look, just go, I’ll figure it out.” 

“You’re at least going to talk to him, right?” Jongho asked. 

“Yea, I will,” Yeosang muttered. God knew he wouldn’t stand a chance otherwise. 

“Okay, cool, guess I’ll go tell Hongjoong he was worrying for nothing then, eh? Bye, Yeosang, it was nice talking for the first time in a while!” The line went dead. 

Yeosang rolled his eyes. _ “A while,” _he said, when Jongho hadn’t bothered to talk to him in centuries. None of them had. The only one who had ever consistently seeked him out was Seonghwa, and even then, they hadn’t seen each other in decades now. 

It absolutely wasn’t because Yeosang had convinced himself (for around the one-hundred and twelfth time, but really, who was counting, because it certainly wasn’t Yeosang) that as an angel it was..._ improper _ to fraternize with a demon. It _ definitely _wasn’t because he’d caught himself admiring Seonghwa’s smile one too many times, or that he’d found himself daydreaming about grooming Seonghwa’s wings. No, it was because Seonghwa was a demon. An icky, evil, absolutely awful entity who existed only to tempt humans into lives of sin. 

He stood, grabbing the latte and draining it, then walked out of the coffee shop, throwing the coffee in the trash on the way by. He was met by a wave of icy air as he opened the door, winter in New York already in full swing in December. 

He started the walk to his apartment, only a few blocks away from the coffee shop, his mind buzzing. The Antichrist was really being born, the being prophesied to lead the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse and end the world. He’d known it would come to this eventually, yet he didn’t _ want _ the world to end. He liked humans. Sure, some of them were annoying, and some were mean, but a lot of them were kind. And yes, he wasn’t the most outgoing of angels, so he hadn’t made any human friends in such a long time. Yet he was a good angel. He did his job. Mostly. He hadn’t really been doing his job lately, but there wasn’t really a job to do anymore, anyway. At least, there wasn’t until now. He was the angel meant to guide the Antichrist to his destiny, after all, and ensure the world ended as it was supposed to, as God had decreed. 

A small, childish part of him really, really didn’t want to do it. 

He made his way into his apartment building, pressing the arrow for the elevator since he lived on the tenth floor. He smiled awkwardly at a businesswoman who stopped to wait for the elevator as well, her expression blank and tired. She ignored his smile, her eyes running over his scuffed Vans, ripped jeans, hoodie and beanie judgmentally. His smile dropped, and they waited. 

_ Ding. _

Thank God. He stepped into the elevator, pressing the button for the tenth floor and shuffling over so the woman could press the button for her own floor. It was the ninth. He desperately tried not to curse in his thoughts. 

_ I’m sure she’s a perfectly nice lady and she’s just had a long day. _

They waited in silence, until finally, blessedly, they arrived on the ninth floor. She walked out, heels clicking on the wooden floor of the hall outside as she walked away. The elevator doors closed, and reopened moments later on the tenth floor. He shoved his hands in his pockets, taking out his keys and unlocking the door to apartment #10B. The door slammed closed behind him, and he relaxed as the familiarity of his home came over him. 

He’d always been a bit of a homebody. He liked to people watch, and talking was nice every once in a while, but he’d always preferred watching. When he wasn’t watching, he would stay at home and play video games, or read, or look up random videos on YouTube to pass the time. The internet really was humanity’s best creation. 

He wondered what his friends would think of him now. He’d always been distant, reserved in a way they hadn’t, not joining in when Yunho suggested some stupid game, or Hongjoong wanted them all to go sing together. 

Yet now here he was, a millennium old angel playing Mario Kart alone in his apartment living room. He narrowed his eyes in focus, shooting a green shell at Peach right as she shot by, her kart tipping over as she wiggled. 

He would ignore it, he decided. He’d been assigned to be the one to help the Apocalypse along when the Antichrist was finally born, but that didn’t mean he had to actively help. Not doing anything to stop it would be enough. It would certainly happen if he didn’t do anything. He fought down the sense of unease he felt at that thought, and emptied his mind with more Mario Kart. 

“This is not what I expected, to be honest,” the voice came from behind Yeosang, smooth and infinitely familiar. He tensed, spinning around, eyes landing on a tall, handsome man in a black suit, one hand in his pocket. His eyes were hidden behind dark tinted aviator sunglasses, his black hair partially shaved with an undercut. The demon stood almost expectantly, and Yeosang briefly considered flying away to avoid the coming conversation. 

“Yeosang,” Seonghwa said warningly, and Yeosang huffed, standing up from where he sat on the rug in front of the TV. There was no point in running. Seonghwa would just find him again. “It isn’t like you to run away from responsibility, Yeosang.” 

A pause. “What did you expect, then?” Yeosang asked, ignoring that last comment. He wasn’t in the mood to be judged, thank you very much. 

“What did I-,” Seonghwa laughed, for some reason amused by the question. “Oh, I don’t know, prim and proper Yeosang, reading a book and sipping his morning tea?” 

Yeosang stalled for a moment, eyes flicking to the open window of his apartment and widening at the sight of the rising sun. He’d spent all night playing Mario Kart, and he hadn’t even noticed. Seonghwa followed the direction of his eyes, an incredulous laugh once again coming from his lips. “You didn’t know it was morning. Oh, Sangie.” Yeosang crossed his arms, eyes narrowing. 

“Don’t call me that,” he muttered. 

“Did that hit a nerve? Oh, I do apologize,” Seonghwa said, mock contrite. Yeosang scoffed. Seonghwa was never truly sorry for anything. 

_ Except to you. _

He ignored the treacherous thought. It wouldn’t do to let himself think that Seonghwa truly cared for him, not again. That would never lead to anywhere good for the angel. 

“Why are you here, Seonghwa?” he asked, defeated. 

Seonghwa reached up, taking off the sunglasses and revealing fiery eyes, pupils slit like a snake’s. His eyes met Yeosang’s, burning. “You know why I’m here.” 

Yeosang looked away, shifting uncomfortably. “I won’t get in the way, if that’s what you mean.” 

“Do you really mean that?” Seonghwa sounded genuinely surprised. He stepped forward until he stood right in front of Yeosang, Yeosang turning his head to watch each step warily. He didn’t answer. “It doesn’t have to be this way. We can stop it, you know. Together. I have a plan.” 

Yeosang blinked, his turn to be surprised. “You..want to stop it?” 

“Did you think I _ wanted _ the end of the world?” Seonghwa sounded genuinely baffled. 

“Not...entirely,” he mumbled. After all, he knew Seonghwa enough to know by now that he loved humans as much as Yeosang did. Yet he also knew that Seonghwa was a demon, and he loved them for entirely different reasons. He loved to corrupt them, and if he wanted to stop the Apocalypse it was purely for his own selfish gain. 

“And here we are again,” Seonghwa said frustratedly, “with your determination to think the worst of me at every turn.” There was a flicker, and suddenly San stood next to Seonghwa, his own entirely black eyes seemingly sucking in the light of the room. “We need to go, Seonghwa,” he said warningly, ignoring Yeosang. “The birth is close to it’s finish. You have to oversee the swap.” 

“One more moment, and I’ll be along,” Seonghwa responded, and San nodded before he was gone in another flicker of movement. Yeosang watched him go, slightly impressed. San had always been the fastest of them, but he’d never been quite this fast when Yeosang had known him. 

“I need your answer. We don’t have time for this.” Yeosang returned his attention to Seonghwa as he spoke, unsure, before mentally shaking himself. Seonghwa was right about one thing- he _ liked _ it here. He didn’t want the Apocalypse to happen, he wanted to continue living in this human world and playing video games and watching stupid prank videos online. Did Seonghwa’s motivation really matter, if in the end he was willing to work with Yeosang to stop the end of the human world? 

“What’s your plan?” he asked, and Seonghwa’s fiery eyes brightened at the admission, taking it for the agreement that it was. 

“We raise the kid together,” he said proudly, Yeosang’s eyebrows shooting up at the statement. 

“You want us to _ what?” _Yeosang was many things, but he had never pictured himself as a father, of all things. 

“We will influence him,” Seonghwa amended. “He’ll have to stay with the parents I’m assigned to deliver him to, it will be too suspicious to move him.” 

“And how are we supposed to do that? Everyone is watching, Seonghwa, they’ll see us with him.” Yeosang shook his head. It was a simplistically stupid plan. 

“They won’t know what we’re doing. We’re both supposed to help the Antichrist, and that’s what it’ll look like we’re doing. And really, isn’t that exactly what we’re doing? We’re helping him not become the worst human being the world has ever seen. As to how we get close to the child, leave that to me. I have an idea.” He sounded confident, sure of himself. Yeosang fidgeted, unsure once again. He still thought it was a stupid plan, but Seonghwa was better at underhanded things than Yeosang. Far better. If he thought it would work, maybe it really would? He chewed on his lip, forehead creased in thought. 

“I need to leave,” Seonghwa said, approaching Yeosang. He reached out, caressing Yeosang’s cheek, expression fond. “I really did miss you, Sangie. I’ll see you again soon.” He leaned down and kissed Yeosang gently on the forehead, and then he was gone, leaving Yeosang staring at the space where he had been standing, his forehead feeling as if it were on fire from the soft touch and his cheeks warm. 


	2. Seonghwa

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much to everyone reading this! It means a lot! I would love any and all comments, the encouragement helps :)

Seonghwa crossed his arms, staring down the unconscious woman in the bed in front of him. Nuns in habits scurried around him, some cooing over the child in a bassinet near the bed. He eyed the child, half in distaste and half in fascination. So this was the Antichrist herself. She didn’t look like much, her face red and tiny. The rest of her body was swaddled in a blanket, her tiny, wispy tuft of hair hidden by a white cap pulled low over her forehead. She cried, a screaming wail which clawed its way through his brain. He clenched his hands, the soft leather of the gloves on his hands creaking at the action. 

“It’s finally time,” a nun whispered to him, her eyes wide and excited. He almost rolled his eyes at her excitement. These nuns had joined the False Church for their own reasons, reasons he had never understood. No human in their right mind would worship the Devil. The fallen archangel was an utter ass, so, really, why would they? Even so, they were here, and it was a night they had prepared for for years: the beginning of the end of the world. 

He took the offered Antichrist into his arms, ignoring the squalling and turning to follow the nun as she led him away. She led him through several hallways, until finally they arrived at a door. Through the door it was silent, with another newborn sleeping peacefully. He realized in the silence that the Antichrist had stopped crying as soon as he had entered the room. He eyed her warily before looking at the sleeping mother. Her chest rose and fell as she breathed in an unnatural slumber, helped along by the drugs administered by the false nuns. 

“Give me a moment,” he asked the nun who had accompanied him into the room, her eager expression turning his stomach. She obligingly stepped out of the room, albeit disappointedly. He approached the bassinet, looking down at the utterly ordinary child sleeping within. The two newborns looked utterly identical, save for their blankets. This ordinary child was wrapped in a pink blanket, the Antichrist in red. He snorted. Fitting. 

Gently, he unwrapped the Antichrist, laying her next to the sleeping babe. He unwrapped the other as well, carefully switching the blankets. Now, the normal girl was in red, while the Antichrist was in pink. He had made it look as if he’d switched the children, but he had not. The plan had been to gift the Antichrist a place of power as the daughter of a wealthy politician by swapping the two children. Now, she would grow up with a normal, middle class family, with Seonghwa and Yeosang there to guide her. 

He left the room, still holding the Antichrist. He hoped she would be named soon. It felt awkward to keep calling her the Antichrist, even inside his own mind. She would need an identity beyond that title, anyway. It was said that people grow into their names, and he certainly didn’t want her growing into this one. He returned her to the original bassinet, satisfied with his work. It was a simple trick, but he was confident it would work. He felt a small twist of pity for the ordinary child sleeping in the other room. She would be plagued by demons all her life, all of them trying to twist her or earn her favor, all of them believing she was the Antichrist. 

He left, then, without fanfare, eager to be free of the disgusting place. The nuns would all be disposed of that night, he knew, as they could not be allowed to live with their knowledge. They had brought this on themselves with their choice of profession. He felt no pity. 

He felt San’s presence at his shoulder and glanced over. The black-eyed demon watched him expectantly, and Seonghwa smirked. “It’s done. The plan was a success.” Satisfaction rolled through him. He was confident that the plan would continue to work, as long as Yeosang cooperated. 

Yeosang was easily the most angelic angel Seonghwa had ever known. If anyone could instill goodness in the Antichrist herself, it was Yeosang. He remembered the feel of his lips again Yeosang’s forehead, soft and warm. He had smelled faintly of lilacs and something essentially...Yeosang. 

“You’re thinking of him, aren’t you?” San asked from beside him, sounding amused. Seonghwa straightened his expression, realizing he’d been smiling like a damned fool. 

“Of course not,” he protested stiffly, San rolling his eyes. 

The two parted ways, San going off to the Devil knew where. For Seonghwa, there was only one place he could possibly think of going. 

“Back already?” Yeosang sounded surprised as Seonghwa appeared once again in his living room. He was sitting in front of the window, a cup of coffee beside him and a book open in his lap. 

Seonghwa crossed the room to sit in the chair next to him, elegantly crossing his legs. “It was an easy enough assignment, even as distasteful as I find it.” Seonghwa studied Yeosang’s profile as he talked, the angel having not looked up from the window. His jaw was sharp, his eyes soft and round. He ached to run his finger along the line of his jaw. 

“Seonghwa?” Yeosang’s quiet voice brought him out of his reverie. He couldn’t help but fick his eyes to the man’s chapped lips as a small furrow of concern appeared between Yeosang’s eyebrows, Yeosang turning from the window to look at him.

“I left her with a nice middle-class family. The mother seemed lovely, as far as I could tell past all the...screaming,” he grimaced as Yeosang stifled a laugh. The sound was like music to Seonghwa’s ears, a small smile appearing on his lips. 

“I can’t even imagine you with two squalling newborns,” Yeosang murmured, sounding amused at the idea. “I should have come with you, you must have looked so awkward holding them.”

Seonghwa huffed in response. “I would like to see how awkward  _ you _ would look, holding the Antichrist herself.” 

Yeosang frowned at the reminder. “The Antichrist. What was she like? It’s difficult to even think of her as anything other than a monster.” Seonghwa had to agree with that. Before seeing her, he had imagined claws, red eyes, fangs, horns. Anything but the normal little girl he had been met with. 

“She was completely normal. And, eerily enough, identical to the normal girl I was supposed to switch her with. Only time will tell if they grow up identical, as well.” He shook his head. “It was so surreal, Yeosang.” 

“And this is only the beginning,” Yeosang reminded him. They would be with her through her entire life. It had seemed like such a good idea, earlier, yet now he was second guessing himself. “Will we be enough?” Yeosang fretted, the worried furrow back between his eyebrows. 

Seonghwa sighed, reaching out to smooth the furrow, gently running his finger down and over. Yeosang looked surprised at the contact, his eyes meeting Seonghwa’s. “If there is one thing I know, it is that you are all that is good and pure in this world,” Seonghwa murmured. “Without you, I would have succumbed to the darkness within me long ago. Let us hope that the same can be said of this little girl.” 

“It can’t all be me, Seonghwa,” Yeosang said, eyes searching his. “I’m not perfect. And you just said it yourself, you’re dark. You’re a demon.” Almost as if saying this was a reminder, he recoiled from where Seonghwa had cupped his cheek, distancing himself. Seonghwa felt the distance yawn between them, empty. He stared at Yeosang’s determined expression and felt a wave of anger overtake him, the shadows in the room seemingly lengthening behind him as his anger grew.

“You always do this,” he hissed. “You welcome me back, seem so happy to see me. You smile at me and talk as if we’re old friends. Then you pull back and say the same thing. I’m a  _ demon.  _ I’m  _ dark.  _ I’m a part of everything wrong in this stupid human world you love so  _ much. _ ” He ran a hand through his perfectly coiffed hair, mussing it up, as he started to pace, almost frenzied. He could see Yeosang watching him, silent, his eyes both sad and afraid. “I am not the monster you think I am. If you would just let me fucking show you.” He whirled around and strode toward Yeosang until he stood right in front of him, separated by only an inch. From here he could almost count every eyelash that curled so delicately over his eyes. 

“Seonghwa,” Yeosang whispered, the words infinitely sad. 

“Talk to me, please? Say what you’re thinking?” Seonghwa asked softly, the anger seeming to leak out of him at the sound of his name from Yeosang’s lips. 

Yeosang was silent as he looked away from Seonghwa’s searching gaze, his eyes focusing on the night out on the street once again. Seonghwa flinched, almost as if struck. The silence stretched in the room, taut. 

“We can’t do this alone,” Yeosang finally said, still refusing to look at Seonghwa. “I’ll call in some help.” 

Seonghwa felt his heart clench at the denial. There was no one who could force Yeosang to speak, and though their conversations had ended up this way many times, he still felt the pain keenly. 

“Help?” he asked. “You mean...the others.” Yeosang nodded. 

The others. Seonghwa had not seen them for millenia. Ever since he had fallen, several had refused to see him, Yeosang the one angel who had always seen him regularly, and even then their meetings had not always gone well. Out of them all, the one angel who had resolutely refused to see Seonghwa was Hongjoong. Seonghwa had felt his absence most, as if a part of him had been severed. Yunho had also refused to see him, a decision which Seonghwa knew had little to do with him and more to do with his protectiveness of Hongjoong. Jongho he had seen only twice, both times in relation to Yeosang. Jongho had always been the second most protective of Yeosang. 

Seonghwa had been the first, before he had fallen. Then he had become something to protect Yeosang from. His anger today had been nothing new. As a demon, he had become quick to anger, an inclination which had cooled over his considerable lifespan. In the beginning, though, he had been too steeped in newly dark inclinations to try to stifle his temper, and Yeosang. Sweet, pure Yeosang had borne the brunt of his anger as the only angel willing to see him after his fall. 

He had flown down and followed Seonghwa after his fall. He had chased after him purely to make sure Seonghwa was alright. And Seonghwa…

He shook off the memories, not wanting to fall further into them and into self-recrimination. He had come a long way. He had restrained himself tonight. He would never hurt Yeosang again. He had promised himself, and Jongho, and he would do anything to keep that promise. 

Despite his trepidation at seeing Hongjoong again, a part of him yearned for it. He had been his best friend, his platonic other half. 

“Do you think he’ll agree to see me?” he asked, sorrowful. 

Yeosang shrugged, his eyes full of sorrow as well. Yeosang had always been the most in the middle of their split, the bridge between demon and angel after the fall. As the middle he had been hurt the most, as Hongjoong and then Yunho had grown cold with him at his continued refusal to stop seeing Seonghwa and the other demons. 

If they agreed to help, Seonghwa supposed they would be in the same situation. “Come here?” he asked, and Yeosang came, sinking into his embrace with a relieved sigh. Seonghwa stroked his soft hair, wrapping his other arm around him. “It will be okay,” he told him, hoping desperately that he was right.


End file.
